


when the sun sets

by valinorbound



Series: Until Our Dying Day [1]
Category: Daredevil (TV), Jessica Jones (TV), Luke Cage (TV), The Defenders (Marvel TV)
Genre: Angst, Daredevil Continued, Friendship, Gen, Suicidal Thoughts, dare i say fluff, in which the squad find out Matt is alive, post-season 3, ‘coffee’ said by anyone but Luke has no other meaning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-14
Updated: 2019-11-16
Packaged: 2020-10-18 08:14:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,383
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20635976
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/valinorbound/pseuds/valinorbound
Summary: It’s not as if he likes the silence. He’s just scared of what’ll come when it crumbles.ORThe reunion we all needed.





	1. maybe it's not beautiful

**Author's Note:**

> A very short, not very well edited Daredevil Continued fic! I might continue this one day and make it a bit longer, but I wanted to get it done before the deadline.

It’s after the funeral. 

After saying goodbye.

It’s after drinks and Matt’s head is fuzzy in a way he doesn’t like it to be - he had felt the walls of the room closing in on him, the voices engulfing him, a tidal wave of sound and smell. After so long with only himself for company the crowd was suffocating. So, when the euphoria of Foggy’s napkin died down, he’d bolted. 

He’s walking down the side of the Hudson. God knows how he got there - maybe the soft bubbling of the river had sounded welcoming after all those voices, but then again, as he gets closer, he can hear roaring undercurrents that almost scream.

The night air feels too cold for this time of year. Matt barely notices it. 

He shouldn’t have left Karen and Foggy, he knows that much. They’ll start to panic as soon as they realise he’s gone; they don’t know the extent of what goes on in his head, but they know enough to worry if he slips off alone. He should have stuck around to confirm what Foggy said had the potential to come true. After all the shit they’d been through it was a pipe dream, a hopeless ambition, but this time they all agreed on something. And that was a start.  
Matt loved them both with all his heart and now he finally had the chance to act on that. Be a friend, not the burden they said he wasn’t but he knew he was. 

He’d turn back. But he’s got bigger problems on his mind right now.

Because - for the last few blocks - someone has been following him.

A hopeful mugger, maybe? Picking on the blind guy, taking advantage of the night? He remembers he left his glasses and cane at the table; walking for a while without the act was always nice. Nobody could see his sightless eyes in the dark.  
Maybe it was the suit that did it. It wasn’t at all expensive, but for some residents of Hell’s Kitchen, a suit was a suit no matter the quality - it still meant you had money to spare.

No. Because his stalker had been walking for too long. Matt had passed excluded spaces, took shortcuts down alleyways, but this person hadn’t taken the opportunity. Nervous? Probably not. 

On another day he’d slow down, let the figure catch up to him close enough to hear and smell. Today, he couldn’t care less.  
He’d scared himself when he realised that. He knows he could take whoever it was without a second thought - probably wouldn’t even get out of breath. But even with the easiest target, he tends to get nervous. He’d want to avoid a fight. Stick didn’t teach him that. Life had taught him that avoiding throwing punches was easier. 

This time, though, he can almost taste his indifference to the situation. And that scares him, because, just for a second, he thinks he could be sliding back into whatever he’d felt when… that. When he could smell the metal and imagine it flying into his skull and hated himself for how much he welcomed the thought. 

He knows exactly what the word is. He can’t say it, not even in his own head with no one to hear.

The figure - they’re getting closer, picking up the pace. Matt doesn’t speed up. He listens to their footfalls - light, fast, probably with boots - a woman? 

He’s detached. Doesn’t care what they’d do to him.

The gap between them is closing, and Matt can smell whiskey - the steps are getting faster, their speed pulling him back from his thoughts into the real world as he realises that that’s not normal fast - he hears the boots and a jacket. Hears long hair. Smells the remnants of bars and second-hand tobacco smoke and the figure is right behind him and he hears a voice and- 

“Goddamn _idiot_.”

Matt’s head meets a wall and he’s seeing stars. He can hear a voice and feel hands on his shoulders, but can't quite place who it is - his head still full of cotton from the beer and spinning a bit from where whoever shoved him had been aiming for a slab of concrete.  
Strong arms keep him upright as he lists to the side, and when he leans into the person he smells leather masked by the whiskey and blood and budget shampoo-

That’s all the information he needs, really. 

“Jessica?”

“Asshole.”

She doesn’t speak. Just hugs him, tight.

Matt lets himself cry.


	2. maybe it's not strong

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to continue writing this, but it'll be in short updates because if I try anything longer it'll never get done. Nor do I have time to edit... this went from writing straight to posting. Life is busy
> 
> Thank you for all the nice comments, and thanks to everyone that encouraged me to do this!!

They sit in silence at the edge of the Hudson. 

It’s not quite silence, Matt thinks; there’s a weight between them, a heavy tension, the surface of which their reunion barely dented. It’s a tension that carries mistakes. It carries the Hand, and Midland Circle - Elektra, Luke and Danny. 

It carries _ after. _

He rubs a hand over his face to get rid of tears he can still feel. Jessica doesn’t look at him - she didn’t mention his mild breakdown and hasn’t paid any attention to him since he let go of her jacket. Matt’s head starts to spin again, his thoughts unravelling into a pile of anxiety-ridden scenarios. He thinks of Jess standing up, walking towards him. He thinks of her fist in his teeth. Then her fist in his chest, hand on his neck, blood in his mouth and the rage in her eyes he saw at Midland Circle. 

That doesn’t send shivers down his body like a different image does - an image on fire - of Jessica saying nothing. Standing up, walking away. He’d prefer her strongest punch to the cold that it makes him feel. 

He supposes it’s what he deserves.

_ Yeah. It is, _ says Foggy, materialising thought his mist of panic. _ That was a dick move, buddy. _

He should apologise, but feels a hot rush of shame when he thinks about breaking the silence. 

It’s not as if he likes the silence. He’s just scared of what’ll come when it crumbles.

* * *

Jessica had dragged him by the wrist to the river’s edge, pushing him down so his feet hung over the surface of the water and sitting beside him without a word. Neither of them knew what to say, where to start. Matt wondered if maybe she was waiting for him to make the first move, but everything about her - the way she started into the water, how her heart wasn’t racing - looked as if she didn’t know where to start either. She didn’t have the first clue how to handle it. 

Neither did he.

* * *

He has to speak. 

He can feel his heart pounding against his ribs as if it’s trying to get out. Trying to escape while it still can to avoid inevitable crushing fear and pre-packaged guilt.

She’s still beside him in silence and he’s so damn scared. 

_ Pussy, _says Stick.

_Say something_, says Foggy-in-his-head, and Matt knows he has to listen to Foggy - he’s spent so long not listening that it resulted in a metal pipe. But that’s a can of worms for another day.

(Jessica can’t know about it. Neither can Foggy, or Karen. Nobody can know and he can’t tell and no matter how much he wants to they can’t ever know that he-)

He swallows, tells himself not to cry.

Deep breath.

Say something.

Matt opens his mouth and Jessica snaps immediately. 

“I...” 

“Don’t say you’re sorry.” Her voice is strained.

“Sorry doesn’t cover it,” he replies, because it doesn’t - 

“So,” she says. “Don’t say it.”

“What do you want me to say, Jess?” 

“This is some fucked up shit, and- I don’t know what you should say.”

He can’t keep looking strong. He buries his face in his hands, trembling like anything. He knows he’s going to lose all composure at some point so he may as well start now.

Her heart speeds up - not in the lying-way. Instead, like she’s about to say something that scares her to admit. Matt knows that feeling better than he’d like, but it’s strange coming from Jessica Jones; she’s never seemed afraid to open her mouth.

“Do you know how much I _ grieved?” _she says, and Matt thinks: ah. Feelings. That’s what scares her. And, if he were honest, it scares him too.

He stays quiet and lets her talk. 

She takes a breath as her heart speeds up, and Matt can hear her squeezing her fists shut. A nervous Jessica is an unfamiliar Jessica and her apprehension rubs off on him - he can still feel himself shaking. Hopes it’s too dark for her to notice.

Jess finally speaks, and Matt curses himself when it makes his heart jump. 

“I-” She pauses. “Shit. I was… depressed. _ Am _depressed. I guess. Kilgrave, Mom- it’s all- yeah. And… a phone call, a text, a goddamn paper aeroplane through my window, just to tell me I didn’t fuck up as much as I thought I did- that would have helped… more than you realise.”

When she falls silent and Matt is left in the aftermath, he realises he doesn’t know what to say next.

Someone needs to write a manual.

Then he realises that he’s the perfect person to be responding to that confession, because he also knows about… about _ it _ . He opens his mouth to say something, something like _ me, too, _ but his heart leaps around his chest and he chokes on the fear before he can utter a word. He can’t be afraid of Jess, he tells himself - this is _ Jess. _And he’s right - he’s not afraid of her. He’s afraid of the situation. Which is completely his fault. 

He may be more comfortable with emotions, but Matt’s not as strong as Jessica. He can’t admit it to her if he can’t even say that Word in his head. But he needs to say something, and the only thing that comes to mind as his eyes flood and he’s shaking all over, is-

“I’m sorry, I’m-”

“What did I _ just- _”

“No, I gotta say it- I’m so fucking sorry, Jess, I wish I- I don’t know. I’m _ sorry- _”

He wishes he could explain, then realises he can’t. A phone call would have been all it would take.

Jessica doesn’t say a word. She glares at the water like she’s got a personal grudge against it. 

“I didn’t want to get you involved,” Matt continues, his voice small.

“Involved in what?”

“Fisk… and all that. It was my fight.”

“Don’t lie to yourself. You were the one who got me into the Hand shit-”

“You stayed on your own.”

“And I would have stayed again! For the Fisk mess. For you.”

He listens to her heartbeat - she means it. Matt can’t breathe, and, _ fuck, _those tears are escaping in rivulets back down his cheeks.

“Why,” he mutters, and thanks God that his voice doesn’t crack. 

“Because of all the shit we’ve been through, and because you’d do the same for any of us.”

He would.

And it sinks in, how messed up everything is. He died, but he didn’t, and the people he died to protect didn’t know. He knows guilt, and whilst he doesn’t know how anybody could feel it over _ him, _he understands.

When he understands, he breaks.

And the world on fire is roaring.

* * *

“Hey. Breathe.”

“Thanks,” Matt mutters through shallow breaths and tears. “That- that _ helps _…”

“Sure it does.”

She leaves him alone and stares out into the Hudson. He tries not to sob.

* * *

"Regardless of Fisk, you should have picked up the goddamn phone.”

“I know.”

“_Do _you?”

“Yeah. And…”

“What?”

“And I’m sorry.”

“Alright.”

“Alright?

“Yeah.”

* * *

“Thought you’d be angry.”

“I am.”

“You know- angrier.”

She’s silent and Matt thinks he may have crossed a line. Maybe it’s too early, maybe he ruined what they’d built in the past few minutes. Maybe he should leave before she changes her mind.

“I…” Jessica starts to say, cutting herself off with a sigh. Matt waits for her to continue and wishes he could see her face. “I’m just glad you’re alive,” she finishes. 

Her heart is beating steady. 

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

Matt can’t help it - he smiles. Just a bit. “That’s-”

“Shut up, Murdock.”

“I hoped you’d stop calling me that,” he says, confidence growing by the minute. He squeezes his hands together in an effort to finally stop the tremors. “After our loving reunion and all…”

“Shut it, ears,” Jess replies, and Matt could swear he hears the first hint of a smile. She turns to face him. “And if you say they’re horns one more goddamn time-”

He laughs and realises how much he’d missed it.

“I’ll take that.”

She leans to the side and touches her shoulder to his. It’s a gentle shove, for Jessica-standards at least, and after a second the warmth is gone. But it was there and that’s what matters. 

Matt breathes in the night air and imagines he can see the stars.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I might have to write more. r.i.p. my a-levels, but it's gotta be done


	3. but i'll sing this beaten, broken song

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A small addition, because why the hell not  
thank you again for the wonderful comments :)

“I'm not,” Matt says, putting his coffee down with the air of a man who has opinions, “going clubbing.”

Jessica rolls her eyes. As per. “Did I mention getting involved?”

She stares out of the cafe window onto the street, watching Saturday go past and wondering how she’d ended up getting coffee with the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen. 

It had, she remembers, been her idea - a peace offering of sorts, to let him know he could relax around her. She had no intention of renewing her anger. He’d jumped on the opportunity the first chance he got, which he might not have done if he knew her ulterior motive to this meeting. Matt already looked as if he wanted to run from the building.

“We’re going to see Luke,” she continued. “Hug and apologise, etcetera.” 

Matt nods, accepting his fate. He pushes his glasses up his nose and Jessica notices the ghost of a bruise on his cheek. Maybe she had another, albeit unconscious, motive for today; break away from the cycle of weird shit that consumed them both. Act like normal goddamn friends for the first time.

“So Luke owns a club now?” Matt asks.

“Sort of. He’s also... running the criminal underworld.”

_ “ _ … _ sorry?” _

“Keeping Harlem in check.” 

“And what does that involve?”

She opens her mouth to answer before realising she doesn’t even know where to start. “Ask him yourself.”

Matt hesitates. Jess is about to threaten to drag him there before he gives in. 

“Yeah,” he sighs. 

“Good.”

“So, he’s a crime boss - but, he’s not…” his voice falters halfway through. She knows what he’s trying to say.

“Not like Fisk.” She reminds herself that Matt barely knows him. “Luke’s nothing like Fisk.”

The tension drains out of his shoulders. A nice reminder that he trusts her. “Still. Jesus.”

“That’s what I thought.”

* * *

The air tastes of winter. Matt wishes he could still see it; everything from the grey and cloudless sky to the Christmas lights that will no doubt have arrived by now. Karen had tried to describe it to him once, but had got lost in her own thoughts and forgot she was no longer speaking out loud. Matt hadn’t minded that. He loved the warmth when he could feel she was happy.

His hand is loose on Jessica’s arm, the glove slipping on her all-seasons leather jacket; they talk aimlessly and walk slow. He tries to forget how quickly this could all fall away. 

“Meet you there,” Jess says when they reach the door of Matt’s apartment building. “Half eight?”

“Yeah,” he smiles. “Sixth, right?”

She nods. Gives his arm a friendly touch as he lets go of her jacket and steps away. “See you.” 

“Hey.”

She turns back, hands in her pockets, breath condensing in the chill. “Yeah?”

“Thank you.”

Jessica shrugged. “For what?” 

“For not giving up on me.”

“Whatever,” she said over her shoulder. “See you tonight.”

There’s something about her voice that makes Matt smile to himself and that seems to warm the winter air.

* * *

Harlem’s Paradise, Jessica thinks, precedes its reputation. Music floods across the walls that pulse with ever-changing lights, swelling the size of the room with every note. There are too many colours to keep track of, and it's hard not to forget that this place stands on bloody foundations.

“Couldn’t we have come earlier?” Matt says over the music, and Jessica can tell he’s not enjoying the noise. 

“Luke does more than run the club,” she replies. “We do _ not _ want to run into anyone from his day job. Trust me - this is safer.” 

Matt nods and then tips his head to the side. “Guy up there. In VIP. Everyone around him is heavily armed…” he pauses to listen again. “Military-grade.” 

“Yeah.” Jessica wonders how many deaths rest on the shoulders of the guests tonight. “As a precaution - watch what you say.”

She leads Matt through the room to the stairs, his hand firmly on her elbow. 

“This is a bad place, Jess,” he mumbles. She ignores him.

Luke has no security - for obvious reasons - besides one enormous man at the entrance to the VIP area. He holds his arm across the door as they approach him.

“Woah,” he says. “You got an appointment?”

“We’re friends of Luke’s.”

“I know you.” His hand tightens around a semi-automatic on his belt. “You’re the chick on the news, with Gregory Salinger -”

“Say that name again, I goddamn _ dare _-”

“Sugar,” someone calls from the room ahead. Their voice is calm, commanding, powerful - and Jessica grins. “Who is it?”

“They say they’re friends,” Sugar calls over his shoulder. “This white girl, though…”

“Let them through.”

He moves to the side, glowering as Jessica and Matt step through the doorway.

The music, the lights, the reminder of Salinger, all fade away. 

Luke’s eyes land on Matt.

“Sweet Christmas,” he says.

* * *

“Nuns.”

“Yeah.”

“Your mom.”

“I- yeah.”

Luke shakes his head. Chuckles. “That’s messed up, man.”

Matt nods with a nervous smile. I’d been easier than it had been with Jessica in some ways, more difficult in others; letting Luke know he was alive hadn’t been the same rollercoaster of emotions, but it was more awkward and much harder to be open. He’d seemed to take it well, though. Slowly, the overwhelming music had drifted away, leaving only the three of them and the weight of their stories. 

Luke laughs again, mostly to himself, still stuck in what had come to light in Matt’s account of the events with Fisk. He sighs and pours himself another whiskey, gesturing to Jessica’s empty glass. 

“Thanks,” she nods. 

Jess had taken a back seat and left Matt to figure it out with Luke pretty much alone, chipping in to react when he mentioned something he hadn’t told her. Talking to Luke was easier. There was less on the line. As a result, he could talk about the things he’d breezed past in his re-telling to Jessica; things such as Maggie, the Daredevil imposter, Vanessa. Most of it, he didn’t have to tell - rather, he realised he wanted to.   
Now, though, it was over. They knew it all. Matt wondered why he still felt the need to apologise. Maybe it wasn’t just Luke - maybe the apology was really meant for Father Lantom, for Agent Nadeem, for all the things he hadn’t put right. 

Matt breaks the silence, thankful to the music for providing a distraction. A reason to hesitate.

“Look. I had a lot going on, and - I know that’s no excuse - I should have come to you sooner, but I didn’t. I’m sorry.”

“Hey. Don’t apologise,” Luke says. He has an overwhelmingly kind voice, Matt realises. “If it were me? I’d’ve stayed dead for a couple years. Just to get a break.”

“Maybe next time,” Matt replies, and Luke chuckles. 

“That’s the messed-up thing, though, isn’t it?” They both turn to Jess, who sets her empty whiskey glass on the table and leans forward. “‘Next time.’ They’ll always be a fucking  _ next time  _ for us,” she says. “Why are we always the ones getting involved?”

“Well, we’re -”

“Don’t you  _ fucking say it- _ ” Jess cuts Luke off.

“-  _ heroes, _ ” he continues with a smile, over her protests. “This is just… the shit that happens. Like in the movies.”

“And now we’re self-aware.”

“We all need a break,” Matt chips in. “A holiday.”

“Speaking of holidays,” Jess says. “Where’s Danny?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry about how ridiculously short this is  
let me know what you think/what you'd like to see later on!


End file.
